Nothing Ever Changes
by JamesMFan
Summary: Set 1 year after "Not Fade Away" this ficlet explores how the remaining characters deal with those they've lost and what they've gained. Slightly angsty but with a little surprise.


**Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. Oh, and the poem extract comes from Siegfried Sassoon's "Dreamers". **

**A/N: I wrote this little ficlet in response to a challenge. So any feedback would be good. Any errors? Does it convey the feelings of the characters well? **

**Nothing Ever Changes**

_Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,_

_Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows._

_In the great hour of destiny they stand,_

_Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows._

_Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win_

_Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives._

The problem with winning was this; it meant they had to carry on. They lived to fight another day, in a manner of speaking. If they had all gone down fighting then at least it would be over and they wouldn't have to support a seemingly pointless cause. There would always be evil, there would always be hate and suffering. One man and his friends couldn't possibly stop it all. Yet they kept trying and Angel was proud of them for it. For putting the world before their personal safety. For being so much more selfless than most.

They had lost heavily in the last battle. Two men Angel counted as friends of his. Good men. Both gone.

Angel looked down at his fallen comrades. Their gravestones were simple polished marble with nothing but their names marking them. A stranger may make the mistake of believing these two men had been nothing special. Just another couple of statistics. Angel knew better. He saw another word on each of those gravestones that no-one else saw – "Champion".

Wesley and Gunn had been just that. They had fought on the side of good and paid the ultimate price for it.

He placed a hand on the top of each gravestone and closed his eyes for a moment. Remembering, paying his respects. Thanking each of them. He could never thank them enough, though.

Two dark figures approached him from behind. Angel didn't tense. He knew who the visitors were and they were here for the same reason that he was. To pay homage and to remember.

"Strange to think it's been a year since," Spike remarked, his hands deep in the pockets of his battered leather duster "Seems like only yesterday"

Angel had to agree with him on that. He could still remember the battle in the alleyway vividly. The odds mounted up against them all. They'd known that they were on borrowed time. No way any of them were getting out of it alive. It hadn't mattered though. They still tried, wanted to bring down a piece of the darkness with them. It wasn't much but it was all they could do. Go down in a blaze of glory. Not fade away.

Yet somehow, they made it. Spike, Illyria and himself. Battered but not beaten. Angel had even slain the dragon just like he wanted. It had been hard and the casualties had been grave but they had won. Against all the odds. It was impossible but it had happened and Angel still wasn't quite sure how. By rights the sun should have risen and fried both himself and Spike. It didn't. Angel remembered fighting for hours and hours and the sun never rose. He still wasn't sure why that was. It was possible that the fight had been shorter than he remembered or it could have been "divine intervention" from the Powers. Either way the three had survived and now they continued to fight.

They'd split up afterwards. Angel stayed in Los Angeles, it was his city and there was no way he would leave it to be consumed by the forces of evil. Spike had relocated to Europe. He moved around not liking to be tied down to one place or the other. Illyria had taken a liking to Africa, the people revered her there and worshipped her as the God she believed she was. As much as she didn't like to admit it, she also waged war against the malevolent.

The three of them may have separated but their cause was still a united one.

Illyria spoke next, her voice low and carefully enunciated "I think of him at the strangest of times"

"We all do," Angel replied, his gaze still fixed on the graves "It's normal to feel like that"

"Perhaps for you, but for me it is...disconcerting"

Spike stubbed the toe of his boot into the grass "They shouldn't have had to go down like that. Both too young. This world is rotten"

"Rotten to the core," Angel agreed "But still worth fighting for"

"If you say so," Spike mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Angel knew Spike felt the same way but he was just bitter about the deaths of all those around him. They all were. It wasn't just Gunn and Wesley they had lost. He glanced over at Illyria and felt the same pain as he did every time she was in his presence. Fred was gone because of her. It was something he could not and would not ever forgive. Winifred Burkle would never have a burial; her parents didn't even know she was dead. It was all too much.

Then there was Cordelia. Angel had witnessed her growth from spoilt bratty high school cheerleader to a woman who had as much courage, kindness and intelligence than anyone he had ever known. He missed her every day. She had always managed to make him smile when others had failed; she had kept him in check and told him when he was being an idiot, and most importantly she had stuck by him.

Whenever he thought of all those he had lost over his long and bloody existence Angel wondered if it would ever get easier. He already knew the answer though.

"So many good one's – gone. Like they never mattered at all" Spike mused aloud, as though he had read the other man's mind.

Angel looked at him "We know different"

"Human existence is so trivial," Illyria added "Entire lives just snuffed out in the blink of an eye"

Spike looked at her "I can see you're still a ray of sunshine"

She turned to him "I was never any such thing"

He rolled his eyes at Angel who smiled a little. It was good that they could still be like this. Normal. Or as normal as any of them would ever get.

"You still with Dog Girl?" Spike asked casually, not really caring either way.

"Her name is Nina," Angel said as he began to walk away from the graves "And, yes, I am"

Spike traipsed after him "So, it's serious then?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business, Spike"

"Woo, touchy"

Illyria spoke up "I thought it was customary to be quiet and remorseful when paying respects to your dead"

"We did that," Spike informed her as he strolled ahead "And if we were like that all the time we'd never get anything done. Doesn't mean we don't still think about them. I found myself missing Anya something fierce the other day. I think it was 'cos I came across a rabbit"

Illyria frowned "That makes no sense"

Spike grinned "That's 'cos you didn't know Anya"

"What I want to know is; why did_ you _come across a rabbit?" Angel quirked an eyebrow.

The white-haired man chuckled "Followed a white-rabbit, didn't I? Led me to all the action"

"Find any Cheshire cats?"

"No, but you'd be surprised how many pot-smoking caterpillars a bloke can come across in France" Spike smirked.

Angel looked over at him "Having been to France – no, I wouldn't"

The two men shared a laugh. A rare thing between the two of them. They had never been the best of friends, or friends at all, and it was doubtful they ever really would be. Still, sometimes the amount of history they had, the things they had been through side by side was too much to deny. Sometimes they had common ground. Most of the time, they did not.

"Got anything big happening?" Spike asked.

Angel shrugged "A few demons, a nest of Polgara's holed up somewhere downtown. Same old, same old. You?"

"Not much. Came across a Slayer a few days back," He replied.

He glanced at him "Not the right one though"

"No. Not her" Spike looked at him "Not sure I'd be ready for that any time soon"

Illyria paused as they reached the cemetery gates "And what of the green-skinned demon?"

"Lorne? He left of his own accord after the battle," Angel reminded her "If he wanted to be found, he'd contact us. I think he just had enough"

Spike pulled open the creaking gate "Can't fault him there"

"He's a deserter. Surely he should be punished" Illyria looked between them.

"I don't work like that" Angel walked out of the graveyard "I'm not about to punish Lorne for wanting out. God knows, I've felt like that enough times"

They exited the graveyard and closed the gates shut behind them with an audible creak. The air was warm around them, just a slight breeze tossing some leaves idly across the pavement.

Spike glanced back at the gates "Till next time Charlie boy" he gave a brief, courteous nod.

"Next year" Angel confirmed "Now..."

"I leave you," Illyria said to them both "I have things that need to be done. Pressing things. I do not know why I even came here today"

She turned and started down the road before pausing and turning back "...But...I feel oddly satisfied that I did"

With that Illyria started away again and was gone moments later.

"She's an odd one" Spike noted.

"How about you, Spike? Glad you came?"

He shook his head "There's nothing to be glad about. Good to pay respects to them and all but...won't bring 'em back"

"I know," Angel nodded "The amount of people we've left behind over the years...it's just too many"

"Yeah," Spike agreed then snorted "God...look at us two. Getting all philosophical. Not good for the bad boy image"

Angel shook his head "You'll never change, Spike. I'm beginning to think nothing ever changes"

Spike grinned and pointed up "Some things do. See you this time next year, Peaches"

Angel watched as the other man turned on his heel and strolled down the sidewalk, hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather duster which swirled out around him as he walked.

Angel turned back and sighed. Looked up at where Spike had pointed. To the sun shining brightly down on him. Some things did change.

He smiled a little and walked away. Back to work.

**A/N: So what did you think? Review please!**


End file.
